The clockwork doll stumbles home,
She cries oil on her bed,
Falling to the floor she splits her side,
And pulls out her broken heart.
It's large but rusted,
Hardened and dark,
Thorns have grown around it,
A weed with one red bud.
Gasping she fingers the bud,
Its beauty precious and young,
How can something so beautiful,
Bring so much torment and pain?
Placing her heart back in her chest,
She seals the seams and stands,
In the mirror, a human girl cries,
Her brown hair draping down across her arms.
Around her on the floor,
Are scattered papers and sketches.
Swinging from her hand,
Is a ring on a cord.
The clockwork doll steps towards the mirror,
And places her silver hand on the glass,
From inside the mirror,
The human girl sniffs, and sighs,
Smiling up at her half-heartedly,